


Are You Mine?

by GrapefruitDoor



Series: An Exploration, Made from Outer Space [1]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, First gay experience, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6443143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrapefruitDoor/pseuds/GrapefruitDoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben is a lot of things to Henry. Talented. Amusing. <i>Beautiful</i>.</p><p>It's that last bit, and his free-thinking mouth, that could get him into some trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Mine?

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the product of a very excited couple who decided they needed some serious Benry in their life. And who has hopeful plans for more, in the future!

Henry stared forward, into the mirror, scrutinizing his reflection. He couldn’t decide if this shirt looked alright- if it bunched up at his shoulders, if it brought out the blue of his eyes or not-

 

And fuck if it even should matter- but as it was, he was on edge, and everything seemed _off_ . Off because of a stupid remark he’d made that had been _noticed_ by exactly the wrong person.

 

 _Ben is a beautiful man_.

 

Well, it hadn’t been a _lie_ , that was for sure. Ben was gorgeous in ways Henry hadn’t been braced for- and maybe he stumbled a bit, when he thought about it. Maybe he felt a little out of himself if he focused too long on it.

 

But that didn’t excuse such a lapse in judgement.

 

Especially when he’s gotten a text, earlier today, _from Ben_ , regarding it.

 

_Saw you blushing Cavill. Really think I’m that beautiful?_

 

It read as a joke- Henry could even hear Ben’s voice, in his head. The teasing way he said his name- not without affection, which might have been the worst bit, because if it was _just_ tormenting maybe he wouldn’t be so damn _infatuated_.

 

Henry sighed, raked a hand up through his hair. It had taken him a half hour to formulate anything to say. Which felt telling, _too telling_ , and even then all he’d managed was _you’re an attractive guy_ like Ben didn’t already know that. Like it explained anything at all.

 

And Ben, he’d played kept playing it up, prodded Henry- _Seemed like you didn't mean to let that slip_ . And he hadn’t but that didn’t mean that Ben needed to _know_ that- needed to be able to see that so clearly- and Henry half wondered how Ben hadn’t called him on this shit yet. If he really didn’t _get_ what was going on, or if he was purposefully turning a blind eye, giving Henry an out, every time. Acting as if he didn’t _get_ that these weren’t all just jokes, so that Henry could save face with him.

 

He groaned, turned to face his bed. It was littered with clothes. He’d changed probably four times at this point, found flaws in everything he put on his body. Just felt like he needed to impress, every moment he was around Ben. Which shouldn’t be _that moment_ , but Henry’s simply _I meant it_ had led to Ben’s _can I come over?_ And how did he say no to that? How when he wanted Ben to come over and just never leave?

 

He’d said _yes of course_ like an idiot- a smitten, love struck, bumbling-

 

Henry was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock at his door. He glanced at the mess on his bed, and decided that what he was wearing would have to do at this point, unless he wanted to greet Ben at the door half naked.

 

And _oh no_ , those were _not_ the thoughts to entertain in that very moment.

 

He tugged his bedroom door shut, hurrying towards the door. He paused when he gripped the doorknob, took a moment to take a deep breath, center himself, before he put on that charming smile and pulled it open, found Ben waiting there, just as expected. Just as handsome as he last remembered- and effortlessly so, like he woke up and rolled out of bed just _graced_ with some sort of perfection-

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hello.” Henry watched Ben’s eyes flick over his smile, lingering there- and wasn’t there a concept, that looking at someone’s mouth for too long meant you wanted to kiss them?

 

He wondered how long constituted _too long_.

 

“I brought you something,” Ben said, offering up one hand and a single flower, held shockingly delicately in it. Henry stared at it for a moment, before he reached out, took it, examined the pretty blue of the petals. “I figured blue, for your eyes,” Ben offered up, his tone teasing, and Henry bit back a snort.

 

“Aren’t you a _romantic_ ,” he teased back, even as his heart was lifting up, into his throat, pounding against his windpipe and making it hard to breathe. “Is there more meaning behind it than that?”

 

“Well, if you want me to get _technical_ , carnations are the second most common romantic flower-”

 

“I was joking, Ben.” Ben only gave him another lazy smile, lifting one arm up and leaning it against the doorway. It made him seem bigger- which he didn’t _need_ , but Henry wasn’t complaining in the slightest- and worse, made Henry want to lean into him, like he might be devoured and hidden.

 

“Well, anyway, it was the least I could do. Figure I owe you dinner or something, for that comment.” Henry sucked on his tongue, fiddled with the flower’s stem in his hand, needed something to move and do to keep from staring at the curve of Ben’s smirk- or worse, into the hazel of his eyes.

 

Really, anywhere Henry could settle his gaze was dangerous territory.

 

“So, can I come in?”

 

“Of course. Sorry.” Henry stepped back, and Ben stepped over the threshold. There was a moment, where their arms brushed- and Henry tried to pretend it wasn’t anything, that it was just the slightly confined space, that neither of them were _small_ \- but he wasn’t sure he _needed_ to cover it up. They were always touching it seemed, in some way. And a lot of the time, it was Ben touching him- which made him want to internally whine over mixed signals, and more so, scold himself for even _thinking_ it was anything beyond friendliness.

 

Ben allowed himself to be ushered into Henry’s apartment, smiling easily as he followed the other man inside. He hoped he truly was giving off the the calm and cool demeanor he was trying to, because inside he felt anything but. He walked past Henry,  allowing him to shut the door as he removed his jacket and hung it on a small hook on the wall. Henry’s coat already hung there and a small part of Ben hoped some of the other man’s scent might rub off onto his. The man always smelled so wonderful - and it was something that went far beyond the smell of his cologne. Sure, that was there,  but underneath it all there was something intoxicating that clung to his skin, something Ben couldn't describe if he wanted to. It was a subtle musk, a hint of spices that always left him wanting to touch Henry’s skin in hopes of exploring it. It was something that smelled innocent, something that left him feeling high and giddy, something that smelled vaguely of fruit - hints of citrus, something soft and smooth, something like peaches.

 

That was it. Henry _always_ smelled like peaches.

 

Ben didn’t know what to do with this information, so instead of dwelling on it he turned to face Henry, hoping he had not been staring at the fabric of their coats touching for too long. Henry was leaning up against the back of his closed front door, looking like he was half staring at Ben and half lost in his own thoughts. Ben found himself, not for the first time, wishing that he could hear what Henry was thinking.

 

Instead of saying so, he handed the shorter man the flower, watching the petals tremble as he took it. Ben smirked again as their fingers brushed, holding his hand out a bit longer than was strictly necessary.

 

“Aren't you going to offer a girl a drink? And to think, I had thought you to be a perfect gentleman.”

 

Henry blushed, and _god_ Ben loved when he did that. That was what had really brought him here tonight in the first place wasn't it? He saw Henry blushing on tv, _over him_ and in front of literally _everyone._ And well, that drove Ben absolutely mad if he was being honest.

 

“Right, right, of course.” Henry stepped away from the door and brushed past Ben into the hallway beyond that led to the kitchen. Ben smiled again to himself, he loved how easily he could fluster Henry. He also loved how easy it was to smile around Henry. The edges of his grin turned bittersweet when he tried to think of the last time smiles came so unguarded and so genuine.

 

Before he knew it, Ben had followed Henry into the kitchen and was watching him as he carefully selected a tall and slender glass before filling it part of the way with water and dropping the flower into it. Ben was mesmerized by the action, by Henry acting as though the life of the single small flower mattered enough,  was sacred enough to protect and preserve. Ben found himself thinking, unbiddenly, what it might be like to weave several of those blue flowers into his soft hair...

“All I have here is beer, I hope that pleases the lady.” Henry said, mock bowing as he slid a bottle across the counter to Ben before opening his own and sitting down at the table. Ben followed suit.

 

“The lady is _very_ pleased.” Ben laughed as he took a long pull from his bottle. He was very aware of the show he was giving, letting his fingers play along the neck, allowing his lips and tongue to linger around the rim for far too long. He cast a sidelong glance at Henry and nearly laughed into the expanding foam as he saw the other man gulp and practically reach up to tug on his collar.

 

“See something you like, Cavill?”

 

And the thing was- Henry _did_ . The subtle drag of Ben’s fingers over the bottle mimicked thoughts that had prodded at his mind, when he lay awake at night. Had fueled far too many moments of forgotten judgement and lapses in self control- where he was imagining those fingers touching _him_ in just that same way.

 

The silence lapsed, dragged- and Ben swallowed, worrying for a moment he had overstepped. He reached out, covered Henry’s hand with his own. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, the teasing air to his stare and voice gone for a moment. “I’m sorry if I have.”

 

Henry shook his head. His only _discomfort_ came from the fact that he wanted the teasing to blossom into something- to bare fruit to all those late night _wanna-be realities_ , to all those times Ben had touched Henry, and he had wondered what if he had leaned in a bit more, what is Ben had kissed him even once, just affectionately. What is the touches didn’t have to end-

 

What if he could put words to the affection, the attraction?

 

“Is this a good idea?” Henry asked- and for a moment, was impressed that he kept his voice steady.

 

That had Ben chuckling. A low rumble, straight from his solid chest, and his half smile, it was a little bitter. Not at Henry, but he knew it _everything_ out there. “Is anything?” He asked, giving Henry’s hand a soft squeeze.

 

Henry offers a little smile, that sweet, _honest_ kind Ben has seen a number of times. Has memorized, because it’s one of his favorites. The kind that Henry makes without _realizing_ he’s even smiled. And it was that- oh, it had to be that- that had Ben losing his mind. Because that smile was for him, was a private gift the world didn’t get to see, in that moment.

 

He squeezed Henry’s hand, and caution and trepidation and _everything_ be damned, he leaned over, pressed his mouth to the corner of Henry’s. It was gentle, affectionate but not overbearing- it could have been _anything_. Friendly, even-

 

Because Ben would always offer Henry an out, if he wanted it.

 

But the moment Henry felt the push of Ben’s lips, that was the last thing in the world that he wanted. What he wanted was Ben’s mouth on his, pressing hard, taking the breath straight up from his lungs. What he wanted were Ben’s hands on him, on his shirt and in his hair and roaming along his sides-

 

What he wanted, was Ben on his knees, in front of him.

 

Henry blushed over the rapid succession of thoughts, all flaying his mind, sliding into the newly created crevices, within seconds. Ben noticed it, and for a moment thought it was embarrassment over _his_ lapse in judgement- and moved to pull back.

 

But he barely was a breath away when Henry was turning, reaching his other hand up, cupping Ben’s cheek so he could rub his thumb along it, feel the stubble beneath his palm, as he met his lips full on this time. It was soft, it was slow- it was the kind of tentative first kiss one expected from _children_ , and not full grown adults.

 

But slow felt like something they needed, for just a moment. To feel this out, decide what was _alright_ , what wasn’t. And even when Ben growled, low and quietly, in the back of his throat- a sound that had Henry’s cock damn near throbbing in his pants- all he did was deepen the kiss. Push his mouth harder, set a rhythm that Ben matched effortlessly.

 

Henry knew what he wanted. Had known for a while now. But this- he wanted it to be on Ben’s terms. Wanted the other man to be comfortable with everything. Didn’t want to mislay his own desires onto the man who meant a great deal to him.

 

He wanted Ben to make the next move, to do _anything at all_ , as if the kiss wasn’t enough evidence of his own interest. And while he wasn’t hearing Henry’s own internal struggle, Ben was biting back his own- wanted to pin Henry into his chair, to take and take _and take_ with his mouth until the other man was gasping for breath. To say _to hell_ with the softness of this, and get something raw, something stripped of subtle nuances, from him.

 

Ben nipped at Henry’s lower lip, tugged it between his teeth, as he made another sound, in the back of his throat. Henry let his breath escape- took it as a good sign as he shuddered, before sliding his hand back, from Ben’s cheek into his short hair. At the feeling of those blunt nails against his scalp, Ben surged forward, pushed his tongue into Henry’s welcoming mouth.

 

He kissed Henry like every damn wet dream Henry had ever had- like every pent up moment either had ever experienced, and Henry _moaned_ , slid his tongue along Ben’s and said breathing be _damned_ he’d suffocate gladly for this kiss.

 

He doesn’t get the chance, though. Ben pulls back suddenly, breaking all contact, and Henry’s heart is hammering in his chest, lurching up his throat like it wants to claw it’s way to freedom. For a moment, he thinks Ben is changing his mind- thinks that this will be laughed off, a one-time failure of judgement and reason-

 

But those thoughts are gone, when Ben is reaching out, touching him. Fingers tracing his clean shaven jaw, down along his throat. His other hand tracing Henry’s, over the bones of his knuckles, toying at the side of his wrist until Henry flips his hand, and Ben can rub his fingertips over too-tender skin, bundles of nerves and blood vessels that scream of _trust_ when they are allowed contact.

 

“If you want me to stop,” Ben said, his voice coming up from his chest- gravely, and he’s breathing hard- “at anytime, just say the word. I will.”

 

Henry swallowed thickly, nodded- and Ben is standing up then, pushing Henry’s own chair away from the small table. His hands slide down Henry’s body- a moment of sweet torture- as Ben drops down to his knees, in front of Henry. He glances up at Henry, and for a moment it’s a dream, a fantasy, everything from his subconscious mind culminating into this one image that Henry is searing into the back of his eyelids-

 

And then Ben’s fingers at pressing to his groin, defining the shape of his erection, strained beneath layers of clothing. For a moment there is nothing except the echo of Henry’s pulse in his skull- and for Ben, the painful hammering of his heart, in his chest- before his fingers push in, accentuate the shape of Henry’s cock. Henry’s hips push up- out of instinct, out of _need_ \- and he can’t stop himself. He never could.

 

Ben smiles, and it’s that stupid, lazy smirk he’s made a thousand times around Henry. The kind that makes his knees weak. It’s there, and then Ben is leaning in, nuzzling at Henry’s abs, against the soft cotton of his shirt, as his fingers work to open Henry’s pants. Henry simply stared, felt his fingers flexing- didn’t know what to do with himself, where to put his hands-

 

Like this was the first time anyone was going to suck his cock, and he simply couldn’t fathom _what he was supposed to do with himself_.

 

Henry felt like a child in this moment, not a grown man who had had sex more times than he could count. His chest felt tight, but not in a bad way. It was tight in an _oh my god a beautiful man is closer to me than I ever could have imagined and I have never been more excited and nervous about anything_ sort of way. Henry knew he was breathing harsher than he probably should have been, he was already _much_ harder than he had ever even imagined he could get off of so little stimulation.

 

It was Ben. That was the only excuse, the only reason he could think of to make sense of anything that was happening right here in his own damn kitchen. He had imagined this, hundreds of times, but he had never thought that something from his most secretive fantasies would be actually occurring.

 

Henry was pulled from his thoughts by Ben’s hands exploring more of the skin on his stomach, trying to grasp the bones of his hips, all blunt nails and promising pressure. A thin whine escaped from his throat and Henry could not help but writhe his hips up into Ben’s hands. He never wanted the man to let go, never wanted his slightly rough hands to leave his skin. Henry flexed his own hands, opening and closing his fingers against nothing, needing something to grasp on to, but not wanting to reach out to touch Ben, fearing, irrationally, that if he made contact Ben would be gone, that it was nothing but a fantasy, that this blissful illusion would be shattered.

 

Instead, Henry reached around Ben, grasping the edge of the table, almost hearing the wood squeak beneath his sweat dampened fingers.

 

The breath left his lungs as Ben leaned down again, mouthing at the head of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. Henry gasped, more of a whine, as he felt the wet heat of Ben’s mouth mix with the precum already gathering, trapped.

 

Ben reached one hand to Henry’s extended arm, grasping on to his thick forearm. And since Ben initiated the contact, the illusion did not shatter, the reality stayed. Henry couldn't keep himself from reaching, grabbing anything he could get a hold of - Ben’s shoulders, the collar of his shirt, the short bristles of hair at the back of his neck -

 

Ben hummed a small laugh, mouthing down even harder through it. With his other hand, he snuck a few fingers into the waist of Henry’s boxers, as if he was asking permission. Above him,Henry nodded vigorously, granting Ben full allowance and earning him another rumbled laugh. Henry was sure he could feel it reverberate in each and every one of his bones. He was still humming from that chuckle, when the waistband of his underwear was plucked away from his skin, dragged down as Ben lifted his head-

 

And Henry’s cock bobbed free. Henry swallowed, thickly, worried the inside of his cheek. He felt _vulnerable_ , in that moment- because Ben could stop. Ben could change his mind now that it was so _clear_ the path they were on-

 

As if it hadn’t been, before.

 

Ben reached out, once the waistband of Henry’s underwear rested firmly at the base of his cock, and wrapped a hand around the base, stroking up slowly. Henry groaned, eyelids fluttering, remaining heavy, half lidded, as he stopped biting at his cheek and let his mouth fall open. Ben glanced up, caught sight of him like that- and felt a throbbing _ache_ right to his own cock, made him shift as he felt confined, trapped in his clothing.

 

Henry is gorgeous. He might have said Ben was beautiful, but Ben can only wonder if Henry has ever _looked at himself for five goddamn seconds_ . And in that moment, cheeks flushed as well, he looked like perfection. And Ben hasn’t done this before, he’s never been so enthralled by a guy like he is with Henry, but _fuck_ he’s _dreamt_ about the guy. More than once. And beyond the fact that looking at him for too long makes Ben’s damn knees feel weak, he’s _sweet_ . He genuinely made Ben laugh, made him _smile_ -

 

And maybe it was all that, that made him feel even comfortable enough to try this. To be here. To be diving head first into what could be a huge mistake or an utter _blessing_ , he didn’t know yet. But he was here and he _wanted this_ making it cleared as he squeezed the base of Henry’s cock, leaning in to lap at the head. He collected the precum beading there on his tongue- salty but not something he disliked. He rolled his tongue over the head again, heard Henry’s breath hitching- and Henry’s mouth had gone even slacker.

 

Henry shifted his hips, pushing up gently- as if he was baring his cock even more for Ben, trying to give it to him. Ben almost laughed when he mentally filled in _like a gift-_ but the idea just has his cock throbbing again, and he groaned over it, giving Henry’s thigh a good squeeze before he opened his mouth, sucked the head in. He hollowed out his cheeks, inched down a bit more as his hand moved along Henry’s shaft.

 

Henry’s panting already, staring down with those gorgeous blue eyes, nearly blown already. Ben’s hand is something perfect to him, his grip just tight enough, like this wasn’t the first time Ben had touched him before. Like he just _got_ what Henry needed, without him having to tell him. The idea was absurd, mind blowing-

 

But not as mind blowing as Ben’s _mouth_. Doesn’t matter that he’s just sucking on his cockhead, that his hand is giving Henry most of the friction he needs, he still knows he’s not going to last. He was too pent up, too worked up and over-tortured with desire. He trembled, when Ben’s tongue roved over his glans, tracing the head over and over again, before teasing his slit, pressing the tip of his tongue hard to it-

 

That gets Henry’s hips canting forward, a moaning calling from his lips, and he has to touch, has to get his hands on Ben. The fantasy feels like it’s solid now- but he still isn’t exactly sure how he should _touch_ Ben. Henry settled for stroking his hand along the back of Ben’s head, over short hair- tender and affectionate, and it has Ben’s chest going tight- because of _course_ Henry would be affectionate. Doesn’t matter that Ben is in his damn kitchen on his knees with his cock in his mouth, he’s still a damn sweetheart, and if Ben could smile he _would_.

 

That all fades, however, the moment a breathy _Ben_ tumbles from Henry’s tongue. Ben casts his eyes up, and Henry’s eyes have screwed themselves shut, but his mouth is open, and he’s moaning and mumbling it, breathy and needy- _and it’s just his name, over and over again_.

 

Ben groans, the vibrations from that making Henry gasp loudly, pushing his hips up a bit more- and Ben let’s him, takes a little more of his cock into his mouth as he moves in time with his fist. Henry tips his head back at that, mouth falling open, and for a moment he’s lost in just how damn good this all feels. He tightens his hold on the back of Ben’s head- and there’s an instinct to pull him in, that he fights-

 

But his belly is so _tight_ , the base of his spine on fire, his balls aching- and he’s so close, _so damn close_ -

 

“Ben,wait- hold on-” he stuttered, because he knew, somewhere in the haze and heat of this all, that he couldn’t just expect Ben to _want_ him to come in his mouth-

 

But Ben only hallows his cheeks again, gives his cock a good squeeze- and oh, later he might tease Henry about being _such a damn gentleman_ , but in that moment, all he wanted was to hear Henry when he was giving in, when he was giving up and letting every bit of pleasure sweep over him.

 

Henry groaned, eyes snapping open as he came. His hips pushed forward, cock sliding over Ben’s tongue. He can feel the coils in his body _snapping_ , but god, it feels like they recoil only to snap again, over and over again. Like it’s endless, and Henry’s vision is white, around the corners, fading and vignetting his world in haze. He can’t think of a time in his life when he’s ever come this hard before- and he’s gasping out Ben’s name, as it continues to wrack him.

 

Ben tried to swallow, felt his mouth flooded with hot bitterness- but he wasn’t as braced as he had thought he was. He pulls off with his mouth full, swallowing and turning, coughing once and gasping, trying to catch his breath. The moment he did, Henry’s head snapped back up. He leaned forward, cupping one of Ben’s cheeks and asking, in a voice that is far hoarser than he expected, “Are you okay?” He sounded breathy and _used_ , and it makes Ben want to lose his mind. Makes him wonder how Henry might sound if he had been able to draw this out, if he had gotten his hands and mouth on every fucking _inch of him_ -

 

He’s over the bitter taste in his mouth, already. God, he didn’t even _hate_ it, rather liked the flavor it left on his tongue. He’s over the burn in his lungs- over everything that could have been _bad_ because this moment is so damn _good_ , because he he’s pretty damn sure he never wants Henry to sound any different than he does, right then-

 

Ben just stared up at him, his own hazel eyes blown. He’s so damn hard he could go crazy, could fucking _die_ , and Henry is still panting gently, trying to catch his breath. He dragged his thumb up Ben’s chin, collecting a pearly drop of cum that had escaped his mouth- pushed it back up, past his lips. Ben made a little noise, in the back of his throat- sucked at Henry’s thumb, tongue rolling over it-

 

And Henry was moving, without even realizing it.

 

He shoved his chair back, dropping down to his knees right in front of Ben, hand moving from his cheek to cup the back of his neck. He tugged him in, crashed their lips together, kissed Ben like a desperate, dying man as he reached down between them, got his hand on the obvious shape of Ben’s cock. Ben groaned into his mouth, hips canting forward, as Henry squeezed, thumb rubbing along his shaft, before his hand is moving towards the button of his pants. He’s still kissing Ben, as he worked them open- has his tongue in Ben’s mouth and _fuck he can taste himself_ , and it has him dizzy-

 

He’s buzzing with everything, his post-orgasmic high and the adrenaline rush of Ben’s mouth on his _and the fact that he’s going to try his damnedest to make Ben feel just as good_. He doesn’t care that he’s on his kitchen floor, doesn’t care that maybe this is ridiculous- the world is going to crumble down around them, Henry is sure, if he doesn’t get Ben off.

 

The world already _is_ crumbling around them, but hell if it matters. The only thing that matters is the warm insistent heat of Ben’s cock trapped between the two of them. And before anything else can happen, Ben is groaning, yielding beneath him, laying down on his back, allowing Henry to climb on top of him. Henry did so with ease, wanting more than anything to crawl beneath Ben’s skin and live there for a while, explore, breathe him in.

 

Henry has his hands on Ben’s shoulders, is pressing him down into the floor, pressing his mouth against the softness of Ben’s lips, letting his hands fall and slide down - gripping, grabbing, dragging at Ben’s shirt, pulling it away from his chest and dragging his fingers across the now exposed skin. Ben groaned again, such a throaty full sound, and it made Henry shiver. Ben’s hands were on him again, scratching down his back through his shirt and Henry felt his cock twitch impossibly again. Another whine slips from between his teeth and into ben’s mouth and Ben’s hands are in his hair -

 

And Henry’s hands are moving closer to where he had _never_ thought they would be, never in his wildest dreams. But fuck, the world _was crumbling -_

 

So Henry opened the buttons on Ben’s pants without removing his lips from that beautiful mouth, moved his hands lower blindly, not looking and yet somehow still knowing exactly what he needed to do. Somehow all of Ben’s actions earlier made sense. It was like the two of them were made for each other, a perfect match, flawlessly in tune with the needs and desires of the other.

 

“God - _yes, Henry…”_

 

His name on Ben’s lips, said in such a breathy rasp, was better he ever could have imagined.

 

Ben writhed beneath him, Henry canting his own hips down onto Ben’s thigh. If he was less preoccupied with Ben’s pleasure, he might have realized how achingly hard he was. _Again._

 

But as it was, Ben was gasping as Henry freed his cock, the open air feeling foreign against the warm skin. Henry reached down and cupped Ben’s balls, and Ben saw white for a flickering moment. His hips worked up, thighs tensing, ass raised off the floor. Henry’s hand wrapped around the base of his cock and Ben was lost in the pleasure of it all. He fisted a hand in the back of Henry’s shirt, knowing the wrinkles he would leave behind.

 

Henry is leaning down to suck at his neck now,  moving his hand to stroke Ben in tandem. If Ben thought that leaving a mark on such exposed skin was a bad idea, he said nothing, could say nothing to stop Henry’s gorgeous mouth from nipping the sensitive skin. He was writhing _still_ squirming like he hadn’t been touched in months. It was beyond him to feel embarrassed,  beyond him to feel anything apart from Henry’s mouth and hands and breath against his neck. Every moment, every touch, every sensation was electricity crackling down his spine, fire beneath his fingernails, almost sending him over the edge every second.

 

But Ben would be damned if he let this end any sooner than it needed to. He could still taste Henry in his mouth, feel his slightly calloused fingers against the head of his dick. Ben gasped a harshly cut off groan as Henry rubbed a thumb over his slit with just enough pressure to feel deliciously intoxicating, enough to tease, enough to make his jaw slack, eyes roll, toes curl, vision blur-

 

He tightened his hold on Henry as liquid electricity crackled through his veins, from every part of his body, leading directly to the pool of heat coiling in his belly, the base of his cock. Henry’s long fingers gripped tighter, stroked faster, and Henry’s name was a mantra on his lips, something sounding as reverent as the very name of god.

 

“Henry, H- _Henry_ , godfuck _please-”_

 

And Henry did not stop, only continued to pleasure him with just as much determination and ambition as he had started with. Soon, Ben’s ears rang, sound dulled entirely. His voice sounded strange to his own ears as he groaned, growled, called out.

 

“ _Henry - !”_

 

And Ben was blind, coming all over himself and Henry as he clutched the other man closer to him with an iron grip. Henry moaned,  feeling Ben’s cum smearing on his shirt. Ben’s hands trembled against Henry’s back as he rode his orgasm out. It hit him in waves, each stronger than the last until every bit of pleasure was drained from him, bled dry and swirling in ecstasy.

 

The two of them lay, entwined on the hard floor, wrapped completely in other. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable and filled with the panting breaths of two men coming down from the throes of pleasure. The floor hadn't even started to feel unforgiving against their joints when Ben’s body began shaking beneath Henry.

 

Laughter followed soon after, making his chest tremble. He reached down to card his fingers through Henry’s hair, leaned forward to plant a small kiss to his head, bursts of laughter moving Henry’s hair to tickle at his nose. Henry began to laugh as well, the sound amazingly musical.

 

“I can't believe that just happened.” Ben mumbled, and Henry laughed harder, snuggling down into Ben’s chest, breathing in, not wanting to let go of this moment.

 

“I’ve never done that before.” Henry admitted quietly.

 

Ben laughed, again, rubbing a hand down Henry’s back. “Me either.”

 

Henry scoffed, “Could have fooled me.”

 

Ben didn't think he had ever grinned harder in his life.


End file.
